a dozen
sturdy seamen were heaving at the capstan bars, and another was going
amidships as the throat of the long main gaff went to the top. Captain
Job stood on the afterdeck, constantly shouting new orders. His big
voice made itself heard above the singing, the groan of tackle-blocks
and the crash of the canvas, flapping in the northwest wind.

It was a clear, sunny day, with a bite of approaching winter in the air,
and the boys were glad to button their jackets tight and move into the
lee of the after-house.

"Here, lads," Job cried, "there's work for you, too. Take a run below,
Jeremy, and bring up an armload of cutlasses. See if any of those
muskets need cleaning, Tom."

Jeremy scurried down the companion ladder, and forward along the
starboard gun deck to the rack of small arms near the fo'c's'le hatch.
Jeremy was pleased to see that the sloop carried a full complement of
ten broadside guns, beside a long brass cannon in the bows. In fact,
she was armed like a regular man-o'-war. The tubs were filled and neat
little piles of round-shot and cannister stood beside each gun. The
_Tiger_, he thought, was likely to give a good account of herself if she
could come to grips with the buccaneers.

Stepping on deck once more, his arms piled with hangers, Jeremy found
that the sloop had already cleared the bay on her starboard tack and was
just coming about to make a long reach of it to port. The pirate sail
was no longer in sight in the west, but as several islands filled the
horizon in that direction, it seemed likely that she had passed beyond
them.

Jeremy approached the Captain. "How far ahead do you think they are?" he
asked.

"When we sighted 'em, they were about four sea-miles to the westward,"
answered Job. "If they're making ordinary sailing, they've gained close
to three more, since then. But if they're carrying much canvas it may be
more. We shan't come near them before dark, at any rate."

He cast an eye aloft as he spoke, and Jeremy's gaze followed. The
_Tiger_ was carrying topsails and both jibs, with a single reef in her
fore and main sails. She was scudding along at a great rate with the
whitecaps racing by, close below the lee gunports. Jeremy whistled with
delight. He had seen Stede Bonnet crowd canvas once or twice, but never
in so good a cause.

The wind held from the northwest, gaining in strength rather than
decreasing, and the sloop, heeled far to port, sped along close-hauled
on a west-sou